


we lost paradise

by combustible



Series: i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe – Soulmates, But the second person is Akaashi, Enemies to Enemies with Benefits to whatever they are, I guess it's not the healthiest relationship you can picture, M/M, No Fluff, Not your usual soulmate au, POV Second Person, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, kind of an ambiguous ending, mention of sex workers, minor Miya Atsumu/Kageyama Tobio, old osaaka is good, they are around their fifties in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/combustible
Summary: Your curse comes in the form of five little words.the soulmate au where the first words your soulmate will say to you are written on your wrist, and figuring out who they are has become way too easy.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921114
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020





	we lost paradise

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE,  
> i am back with my very belated submission for osaaka week - day 6 (soulmate au)  
> with uni stuff and everything, i didn’t have the time to write it and i ended up writing 5 different things for this day so- yeah. it took a lot of time.
> 
> SO. 
> 
> i wrote this piece from a second person pov, which is the first time i tried it in english. it was a PAIN, but i started it so i wanted to finish it that way, that’s leo!mel for you. im not saying i wont do it again but it doesnt come as naturally to me so it was quite the challenge and- yeah. let me know what you think bout it, idk myself tbh. it was fun to try, though, especially on this topic and for such a "long" fic.
> 
> i tried to write a soulmate au that wasnt- you know, forced love or something and it was so damn hard. until i found this post and finally got the basic idea for this fic. so the basic idea is that humanity has figured out how to find your soulmate: when you were born, a unique number is assigned to you, and the first thing you say to anyone you will ever meet, is this number. that way, as soon as a baby is born, the register allows you to find who was born with this identification number on their wrist to pair them up. you follow me?
> 
> i highly advise against reading this if you’re into soft loving osaaka (as i usually am too) bc i tried something less cute and i guess the ending cannot really be called "happy"
> 
> klaudia, you will notice that for once, it's not atsumu who calls osamu "pathetic" ;)
> 
> i hope you will like it anyway.
> 
> tw: mentions of sex, not graphic but it’s rough sex; mention of sex workers and human trafficking but its brief and non graphic; i guess the ending is kind of open, yes i hate it too, but the way i see it going can be found in the end notes, i just didnt have the courage/time/energy to write it.
> 
> let’s go.

_To renounce freedom is_

_to renounce one's humanity,_

_one's rights as a man_

_and equally one's duties._

\- Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Du Contrat Social

-

You've always wanted a soulmate, yearned for it- cried for it, begging the higher skies and the bowels of the earth, anything, anyone. It's only natural- stronger than any free will liberalist belief; when you live in a world where the entirety of the human population ends up marrying the one they're supposed to spend the rest of their lives with. Humankind has created registers, lists, multi billionaire companies. Those have taken the throne of old gods to become the new worshipped beings, matchmakers with red strings between their greedy fingers. When you're born, the hospital puts a series of numbers next to your name. Akaashi Keiji - _3B75192N834011T_. And _Trinity_ _Inc._ will take care of the rest.

One day, you'll get an email from that company, telling you someone has your identification number inked on their skin.

One day, they'll tell you they've found the one that's right for you.

If they’ve faked some numbers in exchange for large sums of money, you don’t really know. These are only rumours, choked down under the weight of multibillion lawsuits.

Humans have conquered fate. They've muslled her and tamed her beauty.

 _The first words you will say to your soulmate are engraved on their wrist,_ the tale says. It's the curse of humankind, having to exist inside of pairs. And humankind has decided it had enough of waiting, enough of failed relationships before you can finally meet _the one_. And so, _Trinity Inc._ was born, teaching people, taming fate, making humans understand they have to say their identification number before anything else when they meet someone new, so pairs could be identified directly. They tricked fate, took her at her own game, and won.

You are now your identification number, and will remain so for as long as you're single, for as long as you haven't found your soulmate.

So you are _3B75192N834011T_ before you are Akaashi Keiji. You are single before you are a human being deserving of compassion. Insurance companies will make you pay twice as much as a _loved_ person if you have the misfortune of being _single_. Because once you're paired up with someone, they will become liable for your own debts. That's how love works in this society. Insurance companies, or any other entity whatsoever- they like it when someone else can pay instead of you, if you can't.

"Why are you always wearing a wristband on your mark?" Bokuto asks one day, looking at the black fabric wrapped around your wrist.

You shrug and move on. You've begged enough, cried enough. And fuck it if you have to pay twice more than _normal_ people to get health insurance.

Your mother still looks at your wrist sometimes, disgusted thin lips drawn in a straight line when she thinks you're not paying attention.

 _A curse_ , she said. _A monstrosity,_ she meant.

Your wrist isn't blank. No. At least a blank wrist could have meant _mute_ _soulmate_. But this is worse. In a world where almost every single person has a series of numbers and letters inked in the skin of their wrists telling them who exactly their soulmate is, it’s an unforgivable curse to have something else sitting on your wrist.

Even a wristband is better,

Than actual words.

_Hi, I'm from Inarizaki._

Your curse comes in the form of five little words.

_Inarizaki._

Thirteen. You were 13 when you finally understood why your mom would always cover your wrist, why she'd tell you not to say anything about it, to fake it, to lie about it.

People usually don't look at other people's wrists. _Trinity Inc._ will find your soulmate for you, anyway. When you're young, you only have to wait until you're 18. Most people get their email on their birthday, telling them their soulmate's own identification number, their name, their location, their phone number. The system has existed for centuries now and people aren't seeking their soulmate anymore. They're just waiting for their letter, now their email, the one that will grant them an answer. Soulmates now fall from the skies, almost literally so.

You were 13 when you understood that you would never get that email.

Because your soulmate doesn’t have an identification number. The realisation comes early in your life. They’re part of _Inarizaki_. You don’t have to meet them to know they will reject you. And so you’ve begged, you’ve hoped, cried- screamed- to the skies and the underworld, to take you- to give you a second chance. But gods are cruel, and humans are too.

Funnily enough, _Trinity Inc._ is actually interested in people who have never found their soulmates. Those creatures have become rarer and rarer as more and more parents decide to put their children’s names in the Register. They hire you only once you’ve told them “there’s no way I will ever meet them” ; you don’t have to give any explanation. The bitterness in your eyes is probably enough to convince them.

Walls are white and the only living thing in the middle of the office you share with fellow robots are the green plants that supposedly help you to breathe.

Nobody ever told you that _Trinity Inc._ takes advantage of those who have not found their soulmates, assuming they’d never have children, don’t have families to go home to. No one knows, no one cares. _Trinity_ is only an entity to _normal_ people, something intangible- they're not people.

“Why do you want to leave? You’re not done with work yet. It’s not like you have someone waiting for you at home,” is not something you were prepared to hear when you tried to leave your office after eleven p.m.

Your curse comes in the shape of five little words and the way your soulmate selfishly decided you would suffer for their decision. You never asked for this.

 _Inarizaki_ , you type in your search engine that night, and if _Trinity_ finds out about it, then fuck them- fuck them and their spying habits- and their meddling with fate’s decisions- and whatever it is that they’re going.

Red. Your screen becomes red and steel blue eyes meet the word _Inarizaki_ that appears in black kanji. _Freedom_ comes right after.

As a teenager, you tried to find your soulmate despite them being a total liberalist- but your mom caught you, took down the internet for months, giving your wrist a disapproving look. She sat in front of you in your small apartment, dark emerald eyes full of blame and you could almost hear her say _if it weren’t for you, I’d still be a star._ Oh what would she say now that you’re clicking on the _How to join us_ section? She would probably faint. Yeah.

They’re based in Hyōgo, it says on their website, black kanjis dancing on white background, taunting you. And maybe Eve was right to succumb, _For He knows that in the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil._

Sigh- You close your laptop at the same time as your eyes and let your body fall back on your bed. For once, you’re back home before midnight. For once, your mind is still somehow clear.

_Freedom._

_Freedom._

The word rings in your ears as sleep overtakes your mind, silencing the whispered calls for emancipation created by the simple sight of black on red.

23\. It takes twenty-three years until being called _3B75192N834011T_ by one of your superiors makes you spiral for the first time. Anguish has always been a part of you, rotting in your guts. Anger has always burned inside of your bare bones, crushing them to ashes. You are 23 when that one-too-much drop of water tried to extinguish your ire, igniting your long-tamed fire in your stomach, making it roar in your ears once again.

Your first panic attack crushes your mind for the first time when you were 23, hidden in the toilets, one floor below yours as to not appear too suspicious if anyone heard you behind the stall.

And it spins, and it spins, and it spins, and your mind goes white- black- red- red- red. Black- _Freedom._

Breathe.

_Set me free._

Breathe.

You choke on your own spit and you let yourself fall on the floor, knees against your chest, and you try to breathe, but you can’t- red. _Set me free._ You beg to all heavens and hells. But gods never bothered listening to you- not fate; not spirits; not _Trinity._

No one is supposed to live alone, to exist without their soulmate, Bokuto had said once, without knowing what thoughts were obscuring your mind at that time- he was _right._

No one’s supposed to live alone.

No one will ever want you in this life.

Not in this golden illusion of a reality, where love magically comes knocking at your door without you having a say at it.

Black wristband comes against your eyes to dry them before it falls on the floor, leaving your tires eyes free to read the five words you already know by heart.

_Hi, I'm from Inarizaki._

Steel blue darkens and you sigh, walking out of the bathroom without your wristband on.

Mechanically, you climb the ladder. You’re 26 when you understand there’s nothing else to do, that no other company will ever hire someone without a soulmate, especially not someone with a _liberal_ soulmate. There’s nothing illegal in not appearing on _Trinity_ registers. It just makes it impossible for you to _exist_ for the rest of society.

Unregistered citizens are nobodies, no ones, invisible to the government, to Trinity -not that there’s such a difference between the two nowadays anyway. Unregistered citizens means no job in the city, no help from authorities, no access to healthcare. And so your soulmate is one of these nobodies, a person no one will ever look at in your life, _if you can even call them a person_.

When they tell you they need a personal assistant for the director of the Hyōgo branch, you agree with a silent nod and empty eyes. Can you even be called a person yourself, despite being registered?

You’re _single,_ they can send you anywhere in the country. And being single, in a world with soulmates- fake or not, who cares?- really is the worst calamity of all.

_No one’s waiting for you at home, 3B75192N834011T._

With that, the wristbands are back on to cover your own personal curse, and you leave for Hyōgo one week later.

Hyōgo, you'll remember later, long after they’ve assigned you to that department, is the place where _Inarizaki_ happens to be based. Stopping to wear your wristband definitely helped with your promotion, you realise. You don’t know it yet (you probably never will), but some higher executives are actually quite romantic at heart- or maybe they just want you to suffer. Your soulmate will unequivocally reject you, cold and sharp with a cruel laugh. No one wants you. Not society, not your soulmate. Not even yourself.

But you have a soulmark so that means, you _will_ meet them. Those who never get to meet their soulmates wear blank wrists like handcuffs- dragging a prisoner ball with the hope that their soulmate is a mute.

Fate is merciless like that.

But you, you’re lucky among the cursed, a blessed child among the unfortunates. You will meet them.

You’ve always wondered what they would be like.

“3B75192N834011T. Nice to meet you,” you announce to your new boss on the day you two meet, and just like every single time you’ve announced your identification number, with a flat placid tone, you almost don’t listen to the answer thrown at you.

“923T109E1028H27, likewise,” he answers with a nod.

His name is Kageyama Tobio, and he seems nice enough, for a _Trinity_ executive.

The first months in Hyōgo flow like an uneventful puddle of daily meetings and night report writing activities. Boring, unsatisfactory. Your office is even colder than the one in Tokyo, and how is that even possible?

The city is bright under your gaze as you stand on the top floor of the tallest building in town. As if _Trinity_ was trying to compensate for something. Righteousness, maybe?

People aren’t even visible on the ground and the place is mostly empty. _They have people waiting for them at home,_ after all.

“Taking a break?” your boss asks from behind you and you shake your head.

“Sorry, I just needed a coffee, I’ll go back to work in a few minutes.”

He nods and you take your eyes away from the city lights. It’s midnight but you’re in the middle of the district that never sleeps, so naturally, you don’t either.

Thinking about it, you’ve never really seen the stars.

Maybe it’s time for you to go on a trip to the countryside.

Burning liquid hurts your throat as you go back to your office, forcing the beverage into your stomach. You haven’t even switched the lights on that you feel a hand on your mouth, fingers coming to silence you before you can scream, and you’re suddenly suffocating,

Breathe-

Breathe-

Damnit, Keiji, _breathe_ ,

But the door is closing behind you and now you’re alone with another individual who definitely doesn’t want anyone else to know they’re here.

Finally, you feel their arms pushing you against your office chair before they force a piece of fabric between your teeth, and you really want to tell them _there’s no use, they won’t hear me anyway_. Fucking soundproof door. Your hands get tied behind your back and they finally switch the lights on.

“Hi, I’m from Inarizaki,” the man with bleached-blond hair tells you with a carnal grin, and you can feel the shiver go down your spine.

_What the hell._

“Oh. You’re new.” The man says with a cocky grin.

You can only stare at him, world spinning around you.

He’s your soulmate.

"I’m just here to get something from your boss. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,”

His laugh is airy, light. The door opens under his hand and he leaves you _fucking there_ without any other world.

You can only stare at his broad shoulders covered in a black suit.

Unfortunately, you soon find out that ‘ _Hi, I’m from Inarizaki’_ is a common _hello_ for Inarizaki members, a way for their soulmate to never figure out which one of them is their soulmate. And your heart breaks just there, with your last hope. It breaks with a failed attempt at being smarter than insurgents. Of course, they have figured out a way to tame fate too.

Yet, the voice of the blond man still rings in your ears, even months later.

_Hi, I’m from Inarizaki_

Your secret is still carefully hidden, but you’re almost certain Kageyama knows.

 _Miya Atsumu._ One of the top Inarizaki executives, Daichi explains once he starts unwrapping the rope around your wrists.

“Avoid him if you can,” he says, “he’s not violent, but he’s quick to snap if you try to resist him.”

Sometimes, a tall brunette with piercing brown eyes comes to spend one hour or more in your office- why always your office, you don’t know- and he speaks, and he speaks, about everything and nothing. His name’s Oikawa. He greets you with a flirty _Hi, I’m from Inarizaki_ before he sits on your desk with a sharpcut grin. If this one’s your soulmate, you’re suddenly happy you don’t know it.

Back in Tokyo, Inarizaki only sounded like a _dream,_ something that didn’t really exist, only an illusion, a group of utopist dreamers that would never accomplish anything. It was never supposed to be a group of armed individuals who would snap your neck if you were to scream a bit too loud. They were certainly not supposed to be people _so close_ to Trinity executives, free to wander from their seedy part of the city to the _Trinity_ building without anyone stopping them.

One day, you somehow find out that even their leader Kita Shinsuke comes once a year, walking through the main gates, through the main entrance, head held up high, as if he wasn’t the one who blew up _Trinity_ ’s entire basement in Miyagi just a few months before.

Hyōgo has been your home for five years when you step in your office one night, vision blurry from exhaustion and _he_ is here.

“ _Hi, I’m from Inarizaki._ ”

It still makes you shiver, no matter how many times weird Inarizaki members have passed by you and said the five fateful words to you. Your back tenses when you hear the syllables you kept repeating in the prison of your head, over and over like a silent litany, when you were only a young boy.

A small promise of eternity written on your wrist

It makes you shiver even more, when it’s whispered from behind you, right against your throat, so close you almost feel lips moving against thin skin.

Why they keep mistaking your door for Kageyama's still makes you wonder.

“3B75192N834011T, Akaashi Keiji. I’m Kageyama’s assistant.”

You say against his fingers, and you can feel his breath down your neck. He relaxes his grip around your arm, heat leaving your throat as he takes a step back and when you can finally look at him, _Miya?_ comes into your mind.

“Miya Osamu,” he tells you, because you’re bound to learn his name at one point or another. He’s still an executive after all- or at least, you assume. “Nice to meet you.”

“Can I ask why you executives always end up visiting _me_?”

Osamu laughs, and his laugh is airy, _free_ , a bit like Atsumu's, but quieter, less obnoxious, more real, and it shakes his shoulders, his chest and reaches his eyes. It’s a nice view, you muse and he smiles softly at you as he answers, whispers thrown at you like a ladder for you to catch to escape unforgivable waves in the high seas.

“Knowing one’s assistant, especially one that has been there for as long as _you,_ is important,” he nods solemnly as he speaks, making the whole revelation sound more like a joke than the truth.

You’ve been there for five years. With Kageyama, it’s like you’ve been there forever.

Okay. It makes sense.

_Know your enemy; Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer._

First rule of strategic war.

No wonder they’ve survived for so long despite blowing up at least one of _Trinity's_ facilities every year.

“Fair enough. What do you know about me?”

“Oh how you would like to know, _three-bee-seven_.”

You slowly blink and for a second you're wondering if maybe you should actually go to sleep before seven a.m. Inarizaki never uses identification numbers, it’s everything they stand against, personifications of Satan’s doing in liberal standards.

“Well. ‘Til next time, three-bee-seven,” he singsongs. Osamu winks and quietly closes the door behind him. He doesn’t say anything else and _what the hell_.

There’s something similar between him and Miya Atsumu. Of course there is- but there are also many _many_ differences, like the way his smirk made your heart beat faster, the way his breath against your throat definitely woke something up in southern areas. You feel like a unicorn just stepped into your office, like something you should have paid more attention to just happened, for only your tired eyes to see. So when the begining of your mark rolls on his tongue, you're not far from letting a small moan out of your mouth.

Yeah, you wouldn't mind if this one was your soulmate, you finally catch yourself thinking, as you book an appointment with a _professional lover_ \- in a world where virginity is offered to your soulmate, having no soulmate usually turns you into _Artemis slash the Virgin Mary_ ; or you'll find ways to take matters into your own hands.

So that’s how life goes when your soulmate is dead, a rebel, or nowhere to be found- you either become dead, a rebel, or a sex worker to soothe the soul of other hopeless people like you. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll get into _Trinity Inc._ , but that’s for the lucky ones -mostly men, from the right race, with a good inheritance.

The stranger's hands are cold and his eyes distant, you notice when he arrives at the hotel you booked for the night; his hair is black and his eyes are blue, he looks so much like Kageyama you almost want to send him home- but somehow, you don’t. The air just feels too hot, or maybe you feel too cold against the remnants of your memory of Osamu’s breath against your neck.

There might not be any way for you to find out which one of them- the three executives, is your soulmate; but your body definitely has its preference.

Your membership to the sex working network has never been so worth and when you find yourself once again sitting on one side of a cherry tree desk worth at least on million of yen, Miya Osamu standing on the other side of it, with a slight grin, you know how you’re going to spend the night- either with _him_ or with another man, picturing grey hair and broad shoulders.

It feels wrong, filthy, to fantasize over someone like _this_ , someone who only wants to blow you _up_ with the whole building you work in. But when you find yourself, eyes lost in a pool of silver, forbiddance has never tasted so good.

“Need new information on the boss’s assistant?” you ask.

Tone is kept as neutral as possible- he can still snap your neck if he wishes to, and he laughs in a free manner you can only envy.

“I’m not here for that, actually.”

“What are you here for, then?”

Business is _business_ and nothing else, you’re here to work and if he’s only going to disturb you, may he leave, _please_.

But he’s not leaving, eyes dark on you,. It’s like he’s trying to figure out the hole in your perfectly built confidence, to put his finger in it and tear it apart.

“I’m looking for a distraction,” his hands come to rest on expensive wood, eyeing you with burning want. And you might be inexperienced in flirting- who is even good at flirting when gods put you with someone you don’t even know anyway?, but there’s no way _this look_ is innocent.

“I am at work right now, Miya-san.”

“Never stopped you before.”

 _Fuck,_ your eyes meet and his eyebrows rise, challenging you, _come on, lie to me._ So, he knows that you've been inviting _people_ to come here for some private _meetings_. 

“Do you think we don’t know what’s going on in this building?” he continues, and this time he starts walking towards you, fire igniting his pupils even brighter, “do you think you’re the only ones with advanced technology?”

“What, you mean cameras and microphones? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miya, but these sound a bit trivial to me.”

You’ve turned your chair as to face him, and you cannot help but rise to your feet- you know you’re taking his goddamn bait but _gods_ , it feels so good- and maybe this is why flirting with someone always appealed to you, why you always wanted to feel things like want- desire- need. He shrugs and takes a step forward, hovering over you and his eyes have never looked so dark- not that you’ve seen them very often, and certainly not from this close.

“It was enough to catch some _interesting information_.”

“Oh and what do you have?”

It smells like a trap, but it’s Miya Osamu, and when he’s around, it’s not your brain who makes decisions.

“You should know, _three-bee-seven_. You were the one who said _my_ name in a very _compromising position_ , after all.”

So it was a trap, but you know what they say. If you don’t know how to answer, just ask a question.

“And what if I did?”

It’s a whisper, but you’re standing close enough for him to hear, and air has never felt so electric under white neon lights. You let him get closer, let him corner you against your own goddamn worthy-of-a-million-yen desk, body strong and broad against your own- lean and thin, _fragile_ almost.

“Why don’t we make that little fantasy of yours become real, uh?”

You’re used to mechanical, heartless bowjobs, harder penetrative activities if you have the time- and for the first time, it feels like your bones are on _fire_ , like you can’t breathe against Miya _fucking_ Osamu’s chapped lips.

It feels like revival, coming alive in an explosion of flesh.

“Get yourself a soulmate, they say,” Osamu laughs once his clothes are back on, leaving you bruised and sore from all over, in ways you’ve never experienced- and damn, it hurts, “what’s the point if you end up paying to get some stranger in your bed while begging for someone else to fuck you, uh?”

You put your eyes back on your computer screen, clothes already back on, not granting him with any answer. You don’t even watch him as he leaves the room, too disgusted to even think about it without wanting to throw up.

_You let yourself get fucked by a sinner,_

_And you loved every second of it._

And so, it happens again, and again, and again.

Two mugs of coffee are fuming on top of your desk, waiting for you to empty them and save them from the burning beverage. Osamu takes his own mug and stands up, walking towards the large windows. You hesitate for a second before following him, like an obedient pet, indirectly responding to his silent invitation. You’d like to think he’d do the same in your shoes, but you’re not even sure about that. How you two ended up meeting at least once a week when you’re at work, you don’t even know. It’s like he enjoys tormenting you, sneaking in your office with a knowing grin- a fucking stupid allmighty grin that screams _I know you’re not going to do anything, so spare me your excuses._

Suddenly Atsumu coming and going in and out of Kageyama's building makes so much more sense.

What’s so fascinating in Osamu, you can’t pinpoint. At first, it was the excitement, the knowledge what was going on was forbidden. He’s the enemy, he’s _no one_ , and you’re far above him, you're almost a _Trinity_ representative- and yet he’s the one who brings you to your damn knees every time. How he does it- _Why_ he does it, is still a thick mystery. There’s no reason for it, only consequences to it.

There might be an explanation, of course, as to why it's always him who makes you feel weak. Because one of these executives might be your soulmate, but Miya Osamu definitely is the best one of the batch.

Your eyes meet across the bridge of your noses and you can feel your heart beating faster under the always burning gaze of Miya Osamu as he tilts his head and your teeth clash, coffee dropping to the floor, staining perfectly waxed wood when you drop your mug.

It would be a lie to say that you’re not liking it.

“Why are you hiding your mark?” Osamu once asks, eyes dropping on your wristband with a curious look, as you sit back on your office chair, buttoning your shirt back on to cover the blues and purples he left that night and nights before.

Of course he noticed. He’s seen you completely naked, skin bare, only covered in one spot by a black cotton wristband. You're somehow surprised he hasn't asked you before.

“I do not wish for people like _you_ to know who my soulmate is.”

“Scared we’d end up hurting them?” he continues with his easy grin, he’s almost menacing (and yes, it's hot).

“Among other things.”

Osamu smiles, all teeth and malice.

“Do you even care about them?”

“No.” _Jealous?_

It’s a lie. You do care. You want to know who they are, you want to know if it’s one of them, if Fate has linked you to one of these executives, you _need to know._ But right now, you’re sexually satiated, and you can’t bring yourself to really care if this man is, or not, your soulmate.

You'd _want_ him just the same, even if he wasn’t.

“Heartless, and here I thought you _Trinity_ people cared about love.”

Maybe you’re the cruel one because you laugh, light and careless when he tells you that, almost naive- but you know it was just irony. You both know neither Trinity, nor you, care about love. Not anymore.

“No one cares about love in our world anymore, Osamu.”

“Not even you, _three-bee-seven_?”

“Especially not me.”

You lie, lie, lie, liar, everything inside of you is on _fire_.

“Maybe _I_ care about love,” Osamu shrugs.

“Don’t make me laugh, you wouldn’t be coming back here every other night if you did.”

You might care about love, about him being your soulmate- at this point you’re almost sure he’s yours; but he’s still the one who decided he would fight for the right to love, so he might believe in it at least a little bit more. You have to give him that.

It becomes a challenge however, to prove you he cares about _love_ , and after he brings a _fucking rose to your office_ one day, you think he's done, that he can't go any further.

Until the day he arrives with a dark velvet box and you fear for the worst. You can’t help but feel like it's a proposal, and it makes your heart feel heavier than it really is.

“I thought someone like you might want something more elegant than a cotton wristband,” he explains while you open the box, face probably as red as the rose he brought you last month.

On top of a small white cushion, a silver bracelet sits, the same as the one that covers Osamu’s own mark, and it might not be a ring, but it sure as hell feels like it is.

“Thank you,” you try to keep your voice as cold as you can, but it’s just- it’s just too much to remain completely neutral.

You put the box on your desk with a secretive smile that you try to hide by turning your back on him. Romantic is not a word anyone would use to describe you- but you’re only human- gods have shown you this many many times. He doesn’t wait for another instant before he drops on his knees as you grip the edge of your desk.

When he comes back a few days later and he takes off your shirt, he smiles wickedly when he sees silver sitting tight around your wrist. He’s particularly rough that night, you note, and he leaves more marks than usual- so much that you need to stop him when he starts attacking your neck, too visible to be decent.

“What did your soulmate say when they saw it?” he asks as you’re both in the process of putting your clothes back on.

“Nothing,” _they fucked me over my desk_. You only shrug and throw his pants back at him.

He leaves with a kiss on your cheek and you really have to remind yourself not to let yourself _hope._ If this man realises you're his soulmate, he'll leave you. You're sure of it.

You meet the fourth executive a few weeks later. You’re bringing papers to Kageyama and when he tells you to enter, you find yourself face to face with a tall black-haired grinning giant.

“Hi, I’m from Inarizaki,” he says with a nod.

“3B75192N834011T. Nice to meet you.”

For the first time you realise hearing the five cursed words don't make you shiver anymore.

Kageyama tilts his head, silently asking why you're here. You hand him a rumpled stack of paper, and from the look on his face when he stares back at you, he definitely knows how the file ended up in this state.

Mostly because Osamu never listens to you when you say _give me a second_ so you can clear your desk. He’s demanding, voracious, and you never fail to give in once he stands less than a meter away from you.

One day, he walks in with a shaved head and you don’t even bother asking for a second to push your files from your desk. You’ll print them out again- call everyone to sign everything again- you’ll blame the new intern or something- _just please fuck me or something_ , is the only coherent thought in your head when he smiles hungrily at you.

It took him something like ten years, but it seems like he finally lets himself smile around you again- like he can finally bear giving you that small smile that reaches his eyes again, long after he offered it to you on the first time you two met.

He gives you a smile, a real one, that makes his eyes sparkle a little.

You give him a pointed look.

Victory, it feels like victory when he pushes you against your desk, when he says your name- when he smiles at you and when he brushes your hair right after you come.

“You’re so fucking soft,” _it’s almost unbearable,_ you hear yourself say one night and he only sneers, fucking idiot, always so confident even when you insult him-

“And you’re too fucking cold, _three-bee-seven._ ”

You shoot him a poisonous glare. “Don’t call me that,” you spit and he grins only wider.

“Why? You don’t mind working for a company that marks up people like fucking cows- why do you mind, suddenly?”

“I’m more than just my identification number.”

“Are you sure about that?” He’s standing too close, to your body, to your soul, to the source of all your problems. It’s like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.

“Do you think you're more than your fight against _Trinity_?” you ask in a desperate attempt to flee from the thoughts he just launched at you. “Do you have someone to love you, uh? You’re just as cold as me, Osamu. You all say you’re fighting for the right to love whoever you want- but who ends up loving you? No one, because you’re too busy fighting those who could ease your soul. You bit the hand that could feed you and now you’re here, seeking some kind of salvation between _my legs_. If I’m cold, you’re fucking pathetic.”

He crosses the distance between your two bodies, pushing you against the white wall, hands on your chest and there’s no way he’s not feeling your heart trying to get out of you.

“At least I’m not a _coward_.”

“You’re the one who abandoned your own soulmate- you’re the one who put them through whatever life they have to go through in this fucking world of ours- _you_ ’re the coward, Osamu.”

“Oh and you think _your soulmate_ is okay with me fucking you?”

“You have _no fucking idea._ ” You were never one to curse, until you met him. “Don’t assume things you know nothing about.”

It’s cold, and cruel, and you just want him to know- to suffer- _it’s your own damn fault if I’m like that,_ you want to scream at him, make him realise, _it's your fault if this society doesn't accept me- you abandoned me._ and you’re just so- so tired.

He finally lets go of you.

Miya Osamu stepped into your life thirteen years ago, and you thought you would be able handle it- if he's your soulmate, you'll take whatever he'll give you. But it's been thirteen years, and you've finally had enough.

Not that he would understand.

"I think it's time for us to realise this isn't working."

Maybe fate was wrong, maybe you were. Maybe Osamu's never been your soulmate and you just fantasised over nothing. It doesn't matter anyway.

"If you put one foot in this building again, I will do whatever it takes to make sure you never try again."

"Fine."

For a second, you think he might pin you against the wall again, and you’d accept that, already regretting your own words- how the hell are you going to survive without him?

"Osamu?" it’s almost desperate, pleading, and you realise you’ve stopped begging the gods, now chanting prayers and worshiping only one particular heathen. "If you ever want to leave Inarizaki, I can pull some strings for you."

“That won't be necessary.”

“May I ask why?” _you will never have any chance, will you?_ It’s a losing game, vain suffering. But you might be willing to fight for it anyway.

“ _You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain._ I'd rather die a hero, thank you very much” he simply replies, and his face is unusually guarded.

“I guess it’s far too late for me, then.”

“Probably.”

You look at each other one last time, and you might want to kiss him- one last time, but you’re too proud, too much of a coward to do so. And so, the hero leaves, taking every last bit of hope left in the villain, killing every single wish 12-year-old Keiji has ever made, with him.

The next time you two see each other, Osamu’s walking beside his twin brother and they enter Kageyama’s office without any glance in your direction. You don’t see each other for over five years after that.

“The boss was found dead, his head was smashed against his desk.”

A few months before your fifty-first birthday, Kageyama is urgently called back in Tokyo to assume the position of CEO of _Trinity Japan._ No one _actually_ told you, but during the last more-or-less-twenty years you’ve been there, working for him and under his command, doing his dirty work, you’ve figured out most of _Trinity_ executives are actually _single,_ if not all of them, that they either have no soulmate or were rejected by them.

Ten lonely people playing with humankind’s hearts. How ironic.

So of course, “I nominated you to take over the Hyōgo branch.” Kageyama tells you one day before he leaves.

Single people are rare enough for the choice to be easy, you suppose.

He’s sitting behind his mahogany desk, chin on his long bony fingers.

“You only have to sign a few papers.”

He hands you a pile of papers, and just after, gives you a small white napkin, with a red fox drawn on it.

“Burn this, as your first act of allegiance to your new boss.”

He’s been your boss for decades now, it’s not like you’ve got anything to prove. Of course Kageyama knew of your previous little _arrangement_ with Osamu, but something tells you he never saw that as a flaw in your loyalty- not when this guy’s spending as much time with Atsumu as he does. At night. Alone. In his office.

“I’m sure you already have your doubts on why I’m asking you to do this,” his boss looks at him with darkened eyes, “let’s say everyone is better off thinking that only a random criminal killed our dearly loved boss.”

“It will be taken care of,” you don’t even flinch, it’s far from being the worst thing Kageyama has made you do in the last two decades. It might even be the only reasonable one.

“Perfect.”

“You asked them to do it, right?” _Inarizaki,_ “We’re about to start collaborating with them,” and you can already see the upcoming disaster.

Could Inarizaki and _Trinity_ actually find a common ground? No, never. Osamu’s always been clear about this when they tried discussing it in postcoital state.

“I wouldn’t call it a collaboration. It’s only a mere exchange of beneficial services.”

“Why?”

“The human trafficking needed to stop. The lies too. I still think the Register is needed, and they will never agree with this- But if we tell the truth, maybe they’ll stop blowing up our facilities.”

You close your eyes and nod, gritting your teeth as you think about the numbers you’ve seen dancing before your eyes, hundreds and hundreds of children with _the right numbers_ on their wrists, kidnapped and sold to their soulmate’s parents. Hundreds and hundreds of people, butchered to put fake identification numbers on their wrists. You’ve seen it all, turned a blind eye on it; the silent architect of greater evil’s plans.

“My loyalty lies with you,” you nod and Kageyama smiles, maybe for the first time in forever, and when he’s about to leave, you can’t resist asking him one last thing, high on adrenaline. “Boss?”

“Yes, Akaashi?”

“Do you have a soulmate?”

“Come on, _Keiji_ ,” he tells you with an almost cruel smile, “you’ve figured this one out already.”

“I just wanted to be sure.”

“There’s no way to be sure when it comes to them.” Them. _Inarizaki_. “But just as you, I have my suspicions.”

You look at his lean shoulders, hidden under black fabric, as he closes the door of your new office, and your net worth rises up as soon as you sign the papers, _stonks_ , as kids say nowadays.

And when people start calling you _boss_ , you realise you’re starting to see single people, with no attachment, as an asset in a way you wish you didn’t. Maybe you weren’t a villain until now, but there’s certainly no turning back anymore.

“You don’t have anyone to return to anyway,” you hear yourself say once to an employee asking to go home before eight p.m.

They leave your office, eyes on the floor and you return to the spreadsheet on your screen. You suddenly understand why Kageyama had so much trouble finding the right assistant.

You’re ready to spit an acidic _Don’t you know manners?_ when someone opens the door without knocking, but you find yourself looking for the right words when your eyes land on none other than Miya Osamu.

“Congratulations on the promotion, _three-bee-seven_.”

“Are you here to blow up the building? Give me a break, Miya.”

 _Oh, it’s Miya now?_ his eyebrows tell you, but his smile doesn’t disappear.

“No, I just thought I’d come here to visit your new office.”

“I find it hard to believe.”

He’s changed. It’s been five years, and wrinkles are now deeply settled on his face, hair now naturally grey- and it has always looked good on him so it's not like you’re complaining.

“Most of Inarizaki members decided to go to Tokyo to keep an eye on your boss.”

“But you’re still here.”

“But I’m still here.”

You stand up and take the small amount of courage you can gather to cross the room, joining him in the middle of your office.

“Don’t think I’ll be as lenient as Kageyama.”

“I never expected you to,” he whispers with an almost amused smile, and your heart can only ache at the devastating sight.

You've missed him. So much.

So, it’s still there, you sadly realise, the need, the want- Maybe now you finally understand why people want someone to tell them who their soulmate is, even though it might be a mistake, even though it might be a lie. Humans are not made to be alone.

“I guess I’ll be dealing with you a whole lot more than for the five last years?”

“Our bosses want us to collaborate, although we both know it won’t work.”

 _We made it work for eleven years_ , you want to argue, but you only shrug.

“I’d rather work with you than with your brother.”

“He would never leave Kageyama’s side.”

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. Those two will probably bring both of your organisations to their knees and bury them, but that’s fine- you don’t really care anymore. You'll do your job and you'll see what happens.

“Would you leave mine?” you finally ask, a first step on the shaky bridge that still exists between you two. _Would you leave mine if I were to become the next boss after him? Would you follow me no matter where I go? Would you sacrifice everything for me?_ It’s a challenge, and it’s full of rotten hope.

“What kind of hero would I be if I at least didn’t try to save you?”

A small smile finally reaches his eyes, and you could kiss it away if you wanted, but there’s one more thing you want to know before- before you give in, before you take the next step on that shatterable bridge.

“I never dared to ask, but do you have a soulmate, Osamu?”

Your heart is menacing to shatter in your ribcage, as you wait for the answer. You’ve never seen him without his own silver bracelet, you’ve never dared to ask- _Does he know you’re his soulmate?_ It’s unlikely, not when he’s so obviously obsessed with your supposedly significant other. But you can’t help but hope- even just a bit- for the boy you were once, the hero you might have been.

“I do,” he exhales softly, eyes drowning in yours, and you can't bring yourself to look away, not when metal has never seemed so warm.

“Have you ever searched for them?” You continue, and he probably knows where you’re going. _Do I even have a chance? Can we make this work?_

He laughs, cruel and bitter, and lets his silver bracelet slip away from his wrist for the first time since you’ve met, almost twenty years ago. You can’t hold back a gasp when you see butchered skin- white and lumpy under the fingers you close around the wrist he holds out for you.

“I don’t believe in soulmates. I don’t- I don’t care who they are. No one ever gave me the opportunity to care. My parents decided for me when I was a baby.”

You bite the inside of your lower lip as your fingers run over the pale skin, your eyes focusing on the side where the identification number usually starts; it’s faded, and almost as white as the rest of his skin, but you bring your face close enough to almost _see_ something- maybe it’s only your imagination but-

“Three?” you whisper, feeling your heart flame up in anticipation.

“ _Three-bee-seven_ , yeah.”

Osamu’s hand falls back on his thigh as you let it go, too starstruck to even have any coherent thought. Fate is cruel like that- and humans are too. One took your right to have a _normal_ soulmate, the others prevented you to find him anyway. He puts his bracelet back on in a swift movement, obviously embarrassed. 

“Osamu-”

“I know you have a soulmate, it- I just couldn’t resist once I met you- I wanted to know what it felt like to spend time with- Nevermind.”

You look at him with a shaky breath, your own silver falling on the floor as you extend your arm. You smile softly and his eyes slightly widen when they land on the five little words, the silent promise fate made to you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

“I never met my soulmate, not really,” _maybe I did, I hope I did_ , maybe it doesn’t even matter.

It doesn’t mean anything, many people share the same mark except for one different letter, one different number- maybe you’re not the one, maybe you’re not _his,_ but in a world where you’ve looked for your soulmate for your whole life, this feels like a gentle compromise.

One you’re both willing to accept.

So you both meet in the middle of that shaky bridge, and he surprisingly enough, doesn't reject you.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> tbh i think they might die and never settle down their different. akaashi is in too deep and osamu will never give up on his beliefs. but he still couldnt resist him once he realised akaashi might be his soulmate because of the 3B7 thing. after all, he’s seen atsumu fall for his own soulmate despite their opposing beliefs.  
> also,, as to how the whole universe will evolve in the future, i'm a pessimistic person so i'd say trinity ends up winning over inarizaki. after kageyama and akaashi, no one really listens to inarizaki members anymore and they get crushed by trinity who can go back to trafficking soulmate marks etc. 
> 
> i hope it wasnt too confusing, i dont even know anymore.
> 
> additional notes,,  
> \- i really wanted to try writing something different for me in terms of writing. you know how i always write soft loving osaaka, well i wanted them to be enemies. but as i wrote this fic i simply realised that it would be impossible for them to ever reconcile. i wanted to write akaashi slowly becoming a little obedient robot until he would become the evil boss himself. idk i think its kinda realistic and sad and ive seen so many friends do that- you know the deal.  
> \- when they're children, it's harder to make them say their number, many of them know it and already know they have to say it before saying hello, but some don't do it before they're 6 or 7. but it's rare enough so it allows people to figure out who their soulmate is easily anyway, since people with no numbers on their wrists are rare nowadays.  
> \- in the end, inarizaki doesnt really fight against soulmates, they fight against their instrumentalisation and the way trinity capitalises on it, which would definitely happen irl if soulmates were real.  
> \- this piece of writing ended up being kinda more political than intended but oh, well :/  
> \- trinity executives are almost all inarizaki members' soulmates. they play with other soulmate links bc they can't find theirs and it frustrates them.  
> \- if you want to use this universe for your own works, go for it and please leave the link in the comments so i can go and read it!!!! id be happy to come and take a look at it <3


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